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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29454831">Cube Eye</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/NullBubby/pseuds/NullBubby'>NullBubby</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Kirby (Video Games), Nitrome, Robot Wants (Video Games), Scribblenauts (Video Games)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>No Plot/Plotless</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 19:19:53</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,483</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29454831</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/NullBubby/pseuds/NullBubby</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>In the coldest archive, a boy pales; robots lurk. Threatening, looming—they're hardly dangerous...</p><p>...but what could they want?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Cube Eye</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Withstand, they could always stay. They could wait right there, in place, however bored, however listless such minds of metal could stray to. They were the perfect players of their own game, they were the most broadened scope of vibrance among the fade and shade—something so paralyzing, so undistraught to the face of the world inside its own echoey darkness. Undoubtedly, they were the absolute last to once drift their eyes a sparing smidge apart; not ever could one face follow from any path of the outskirts, a gaze of steel lost somewhere, somehow, among the heads of the teetering three.</p><p>Until somehow he could find...  something slightly better, it was pointless. They stared, they talked in some lifeless, alien word. Without trembles, they didn’t stutter. Ease of daze, they didn’t even twitch. By any glimpse too strayed and dissonant for his own shivers to handle, it’d barely have mattered, regardless, under relentless haze from a drum, a box, and a figure outright indescribable.</p><p>For then, he could stay. He wouldn’t slip his eye a second from the spot of silence because it was the most courteous mind to consider, of ever. One to another, he tracked some droning orb of nothing from the far side of their pale habitat—to the boxy gazer, certainly wanting <em> something</em>, the odd-headed fazer, a sort of scribbled pallor over its remarkably flat face, and somewhere, in some depths of mismatched color rivaled only by himself, a silent grazer.</p><p>The freezing, lush assurance of each’s sporadic whimper—he was far away from all harm. The cold storage trapping them all said nothing of objection, regardless, but in a faint sense, he could almost see its compulsory illusion. Its metallic grays lining the walls, ceiling, all else of the universe entrapping cold breaths and beeping to a containment cube, unrestricted line into an accessed archive of shivers to him, exclusively, somehow, his only restraint lay seeing beyond the shutter.</p><p>He was sure, safe from all the flares. The room was enough a slap against his own robes and himself to pummel it from word to mind, but even considering the trio charging amongst themselves, a quiet eagerness stinging so deep into his inner troves it phased from boomerang to a straight boulder, all any sense of worry should’ve subsided.</p><p>He <em> knew </em> he didn’t care. He was the only on the same matter, after all, as seeing a point to the final metallic minds’ input was beyond an impoppable frame. For the first looker among themselves, the dullest, most geometrically sound box of the bunch, it just peered so soullessly through its equally boxy, backlit, and blank face, into the next scant gray of the unshaded abyss. The scribbled one could bear break its balance as sole smoke to the whole sphere of one-sided life—swaying its vises for arms, bobbing its head from the invisible waters, even stretching in its rotary binds, as much as he couldn’t see it from staying a pillow of the corner so long.</p><p>It was then the ultimate mask moved behind powerless plugs; he could only lift his head up to the sky. Almost, he fell even further beyond the ground on mercy of the few colors unfathomable amongst the beeps and boops of everywhere else—take a deeper breath, and give it time; he almost truly found a way for his hood and all to sustain itself among those. So unaltered, peerlessly so, so mesmerizingly disparate to even the statues of the curious cage they all lived in since first eye, it...  was an unknown to face of null.</p><p>He could reach nothing at all, yet he braved so obliviously he was given no choice but dumb luck to supply himself a stare. A colored capsule, sitting in the last of their makeshift trio, a mindless mechanism, doubtless shared with the rest, it was something too unmatched to mind with the rest, yet too stiff not to fit, a settled buzzer on its head crying out all its dear dread in a sole mind, claws gripping the hairs of its own metal waist with strength unmatched, and somewhere, a gaze of pure panic untapped.</p><p>There, they came. Their hands of unrivaled unison, however disparate in proportions and claw sizes, they poached the silence away, threatening the mere shock of a cornerlight by the hour passing. The eyes drew shores, waves thrashing into his most thankfully obscured face, their hands of sorts lobbing, reaching somewhere so painlessly into the abyss that didn’t even concern him. Then great, their sputtering voices became, one of digitized mumbles, one of unrivaled shivers—one silent altogether—they came, they stomped, they watched, they stared as the hardiest lights into a spot none should’ve been.</p><p>They said he’d fall, and he did.</p><p>Yelling out into the sun, he just sat, concurred with the opportunity bar risk. He cried so wildly inarticulately to all the nothing that dared sit tight, far from the edges of its home among the cosmic cogs of the universe. A tear in all—he didn’t need half the definition of consciousness to memorize its pain—he slumped; he just stared, somewhere into the sphere of the past where a trio of thick trunks still left their unfeeling gaze.</p><p>But when daylight came through, something would’ve halted. However literally could be taken something on the fractured frame he dwindled upon—a thrice-rounded whir aback, somewhere in their tracks a yet unminding flash of bright eyes—something could always lurk around the shortest corner, the tiredest tier of the metallic merge of floor to feet. After all...  he hadn’t a sort of hunch to his own guessing game.</p><p>When all eyes were on him, he trailed the most—as much as it seemed he couldn’t strain another shiver out of himself for the moment. He was twined over the glossiest print of some very notion, just loose enough for hold, but not so to ensure he could even see what direction the winds of nothing told for him. When the doors of chaos sighed into anew, when the sparks of color sparsely redrew, somehow, he could find it.</p><p>There they came—there, they came.</p><p>Since he’d have found it...  they’d come. In that instant, he could gawk long as he so chose, he could stammer as much definitely as was silently; he could hide his tracks beneath the rinds of his own sweat, dripping the last waters of his true intents somewhere beyond the paralleled stare. Short, stubbier than anything he could even recall—the skies promised some swelled beads and a blue scarf misplaced so wrongly, somewhere from the abyss of hollow halls incorporating its beyond.</p><p>The gateway sputtered its last; far much in a resort, broken words in the dirt, he still lay before the coldest exhaust of some cosmos containing him. Not him, even—not the bright buoys of the stars, but a little spectacle, anywhere he fared. One...  a towering teeterer, suddenly jolted at the encounter, one nigh set to want it all, one merely a panicker of the stellar sphere, somewhere forgotten into the tightest depths of the accessed ark they all lived, eternally.</p><p>When he lifted his head up to the sky, paled to each tear by the scribble approaching, he could finally pick a feigning to play. Not comfortable, doubtless as he could hear beyond their muffled clanks, he tucked his hands, rolled his chest into himself for certainly the most effective first impression. Silent, in short, sweet sputters, he just relaxed, suddenly, halting breath to a noticeable vacuum, blinks to bolts, the perfected alignment of rotary arms and a hefty hold to hug him aloft among all the stars he could reap for his dreams.</p><p>Truly, he could wait right there and play among the triplicated tires, bobbers, and loomers from the shapeshifting shadows skyward. Barely with his own wind back to something recognizable, he suddenly twitched, tilted, and tumbled along the faintest spy of cold doubtlessly awaiting his departure—the mellow graze of an indefinite lullaby to subside, sway from the summits of dew and damage, and crash him down with the hardiest tidal force.</p><p>But right there, in its arms—in bare sight of the very teetering three, topping their trances from their stares to him—he was the greatest crater he could sigh into, himself, whenever he felt to lean that far. A box, dawning, clawing itself with the deed to want it all, he just shut his eye, glimpsed, and vaguely churned. A cylindrical beast, silent, shudder-inducing by the mere lack of anything bar its eerie step, its mindless bound toward destination unknown, he just sighed. And beyond it, and all, a scribble, peering into its own sighing pillow in grasp so oddly.</p><p>Somehow, he’d found a slightly different frame of mind; he’d keep it as long as he kept his sleep feigned.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I made this account one year ago; anniversary, yadda yadda yadda. These robots are cool, and that's all I care about.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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